


NYD Underfell Alternate Timeline - Grillby

by LadyAnatares



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Alphyne, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Badster, But he's still your bud, Dadster, Domestic Fluff, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Even if he's salty, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gaster's pretty salt too, Grillbae, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Marriage Proposal, Not Your Doll AU, Not slow but not fast either, Not sure what Sans' role will be in this, Objectification, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Reasonably paced burn, Romance, Romantic Comedy, bartinder, papyton, reader is female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 19:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAnatares/pseuds/LadyAnatares
Summary: This is the one where you end up with the Grillbae :) What would happen if you never overheard that phone call?I have some very vague ideas for how this one's going to actually play out, but I think I have a sweet core plotline in mind that you'll enjoy. We're going to reform a chauvinistic asshole through the power ofDetermination.***** This is one of my writer's block fix fics (yes I'm blocked again damnit) so updates may be few and far between. *****Gifted to several peeps because they're amazing and positive people I adore and cherish having in my life. Thanks you guys <3





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sunfreckle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/gifts), [MellenCollie_An_ShrinkingCoyote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellenCollie_An_ShrinkingCoyote/gifts), [DesChaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesChaos/gifts), [SoNotBobby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoNotBobby/gifts).



After closing the call with his supplier, Grillby straightens his vest and tie. He pulls on the drawer of the old mahogany desk he’d been leaning against for the phone call, reaching with an indigo flaming hand into its depths.

From it, he withdraws a small stone box. The stone has been carefully carved and patterned with the sigils of his esteemed family line, the small crevices filled with gold melted by his great-grandfather’s own hands. It helped to decorate the dark stone, with a delicate shine when passed under light. The box was smaller than his palm, with small golden hinges securing the lid, and a shiny golden clasp he clicks open with a thumb.

The stone set in the precious band was an orange-red fire opal – a tradition his father and grandfather had passed down to him. It has been carefully protected and preserved from crazing for hundreds of years, as the gem was rather sensitive to heat and humidity. He’d never thought he would get the opportunity to present it to anyone - least of all a human female, and a mage, at that, but he had been very careful with the heirloom regardless.

He closes the box and briefly tosses it in his hands, then slips it into a pocket in his slacks. He figures he ought to check with his staff whether you’ve yet arrived.

Striding over to his office door, he opens it to find you.

It seems that his bartender has taken the initiative to let you through to his office.

His phone buzzes urgently in his pocket, but with you here he silences it. He will just have to deal with it later.

“Hey, Grillby,” you greet him awkwardly.

“… Good evening, _____,” he greets charmingly. “Come in,” he invites, stepping out of the way to let you enter his office.

He shuts the door behind you as you step inside, taking your shoulders in his as you remove your coat, and then taking it. He folds it neatly and steps away for a brief moment to set it on his desk.

The room is tidy and rather old-fashioned, and you take a moment to scan it with your eyes. His desk is made of a darkly stained oak, and the walls have an old brocade wallpaper still glued to them, which is peeling up at the seams. A lamp hangs low from the ceiling over his desk, with an old-fashioned ivory shade. It was an old building after all, constructed in the mid-1930’s, and he had leased it as-is. He makes a mental note to do something about the wallpaper some other time.

“… You wanted to discuss something tonight,” he points out, taking a step towards you and wrapping an arm around your waist. “As a matter of fact, I have a proposition for you, dear _____.”

He runs his flaming hand seductively along your back, drawing you into him, enjoying how easily you submit to his touch. With his other, he withdraws his gift from a pocket, and pops it open to show you.

His soul flutters with pride as you gasp.

“… I had wanted to wait for a special occasion, but I find you so _irresistible_ that I couldn’t wait,” he softly coos in that tone of voice that makes women absolute putty in his masterful hands.

“Grillby?! _What_ -“

“… _Shhh_ ,” he silences you. “Do not force yourself to answer now. I am sure you will need to time to consider it. In the meantime, why not join me for dinner upstairs?” he suggests smoothly, laying the magic on thick to amplify your desire for him.

You pull away from his grasp and he lets out a startled crackle. What?

“Okay, Grillby? _Look_ ,” you begin, rubbing your temples with your hands as you work through your frustration. “I _am_ going to answer you right now, and the answer is _no_.”

… _You resisted his magic?!_

“I came here tonight because I feel like I don’t know the first damn thing about you, not to suddenly _get hitched_ ,” you explain. “Seriously, what were you _thinking?_ ”

He’s too stunned to speak. _Never_ had someone so easily refused him on anything. You cross your arms over your chest defensively.

“… My apologies,” he attempts to salvage the situation. “Perhaps that _was_ a bit premature.”

“You think??”

He sighs as he closes the box, stepping back to lean against his desk and pulling on the drawer to secret it away once again. Sliding it shut, he folds his own arms as he tries to determine how he wants the rest of this meeting to go.

You sigh, then surprise him by stepping over to the desk and turning to lean against it too. “At least I know how serious you are,” you admit, smiling up at him softly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been proposed to on the third date before.”

He chuckles warmly at that, then ponders whether it might be optimal to be more direct? “… What can I do to help salvage this evening?” he asks.

“Geez, I don’t know which one of us is the bigger dork here,” you snicker. “For real though, I barely know you and almost wound up in bed with you, sort of. And, I’ve decided that I’m not really comfortable with that, after all. So, I want to get to know you better first. I want you to stop dodging my questions, and then maybe the better I know you the better I’ll be able to sort out my feelings for you.”

He brings a hand to his chin to consider this. Ordinarily the air of mystery he works to maintain is _attractive_ to women, and grants him that ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ quality that so many of them seek. But now, you’re telling him that that’s exactly the one characteristic he has that you’re opposed to.

And he’s not sure he wants to let go of it so easily.

But, if doing so would let him claim you, then perhaps it might be worth the attempt?

“How old are you?” you ask.

“… Physically, I suppose about twenty-five,” he answers coyly.

“And how old are you _really?_ ” you press on with a smirk.

He hums as he considers his answer. “… A few decades, I suppose.”

“Come on Grillby, you can do better than that.”

He presses his lips together, coated in indigo flames. “… I think, perhaps, about… Six hundred years, or so,” he finally answers, the honesty tearing at his ego. He’s never told a woman his age before now.

“See?” you grin, pulling his hand from him and interlacing his flaming fingers with yours. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“… Does it bother you?” he asks cautiously. After all, there _is_ a significant age gap, and he is not unaware of the fact that humans are often bothered by such things.

You nudge him. “You’re about _my_ age physically, right? And I already know that monsters are more relaxed about that kind of thing.”

He looks down at your human hand interlaced with his indigo flames, and decides to take the invitation to flirt again. He adjusts the grip so that your fingers are held in his as he turns towards you, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and moving to stand with your chest pressed to his.

You put your available hand on his chest to reclaim some of the distance between you.

He bites back his frustration. Why isn’t his magic _working?_

“Whoa, let’s take this slow,” you hesitate, biting your lip. “Actually, do you think we could maybe start over?”

“… Start over?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “So far all we’ve done is either be relentlessly awkward around each other, or, uh, move things _way_ too fast,” you finish, an obvious warmth coming off your face.

His hands come up to hold your face eager for that warmth just under your skin, but yours come up and pull them away. Grillby’s white smile frowns amoung his flames.

“… What did you have in mind?” he asks resignedly.

“I don’t know. Typical romantic comedy shit, like coffee shop dates, the movies, or maybe out for dinner?” you suggest with a shrug, then shake your head. “Maybe _not_ dinner, on second thought, heh. Anyways, humour me? I want to get to know each other properly.”

The fire elemental would rather prefer _his_ methods and hasten this process significantly, if they were actually _working_ right now. _None_ of your emotions were bowing to his beck and call, and he’s not even sure he can feel them now. Grillby takes a moment to think it over. Deciding that he is not entirely _disagreeable_ to the idea, he grins knowingly and nods in agreement to your terms.

Even if his Amplifying magic is not affecting you, you’re still interested in him, and that flatters his pride enough to let this play out however it may. For now.

“… I think that is a reasonable proposition,” he agrees.

“Thank you,” you breathe in relief.

“… Are you staying for dinner?” he asks curiously. You _are_ here at his _restaurant_ , after all.

You shake your head and his grin falters for a moment. “Sorry. Sans said Papyrus is making lasagna tonight, and I don’t want to miss out on _that_.”

He chuckles warmly at that. Not even he could deny you such a… _Unique_ experience.

“… Very well then. Be safe on your way home, _____.”

“Great. Thanks, Grillby. I’ll call you soon.”

You throw him a smile before collecting your jacket, and he heads for the door to open it for you. As you go to walk through, you get a funny look on your face and turn to him.

“Hey, uh, were you seriously proposing _marriage_ to me earlier?”

“… I thought we were starting over?” he counters with a smirk.

“Right! Right, sorry.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any suggestions for dates or fluff, feel free to leave them in the comments on this or any chapter and I will see what I can do to indulge them :)


End file.
